Last night I discovered in my sleepA sweet unicorn hornAnd I spotted you circledSeated at the best tables, humble and silent, In front of silver tableWith all the cutlery ready For the altered banquetIt would be my dear swain, a fate With beds, quilts and Countesses With nipples, meat for cannons The drama thrown under the tablesAnd the hordes of gods from OlympusOn the Whipping Valley building A barrier of words tothe cries of the ones whoNeed to be rememberedthere your twin soul gave to you the mystic sailLet me go on a rampage Ship of TrebizontWith a new spell To anchor for the first timeFates of rot and shameOn the star that is about to die!On the Heavenly music We build a palace for the peopleBuilt on four sidesOn the diagonal cross of Pilate

I received about 50 poems from Ionela Flood, a member of the Romanian community in Britain, together with the request to write a preface to their publication.I have known her for a few years; this energetic force of national culture who, like many other Romanians has decided to work abroad - in her case England.She is, by far, one of the most active leaders of Romanian associations in the world. For almost two days information has reached us about the activities they undertake for the benefit of Romanian, both in the sphere of social and cultural matters. I should mention her participation at the only meeting of Romanians from the Diaspora , held in Alba Iulia; Annual Congress of Romanian spirituality.She is outspoken and persuasive, defending Romanian, the language and culture of this nation. Thereby forcing people to talk about their home, with more respect and it has to be said, in a powerful literary her wish is to draw the community in which she lives towards Romanian culture.She chose to surface with poetry, adding her name to the long list of notable poets from Romanian literature, , naturally, with its modern development, with an important share of their creation, as well as in other cultures. We Romanians, take pride in well known poets, who have remained in literary history, each with their recognized role in cultures around the world; for example, Anna de Noailles, , as with Iulia Hasdeu, unfortunately gone before she could fully establish her promising talent. Next, Veronica Micle, in tune more with the love poetry of Eminescu, a poet in the true sense of the word, followed a long line of illustrious names- many recorded - and the language in which they wrote, especiallyFrench.The twentieth century was made much richer by women, and, quite encouraging for the whole of literature, written by women, claiming in all areas - poetry, prose, drama, and essay. I see the contribution of Romanian literature as extremely beneficial, bringing a touch of tenderness, refinement, expressiveness and it is therefore very receptive to any new appearance on the horizon becoming full of creative reflection.I turned on the computer, reading on the monitor screen, first mechanically, and then with a growing interest in the lively lyrics submitted by Ionela Flood, with our desire to express in one word.I’m not a supporter of reading poems on a screen. They flog the rhythms and the written traces. I think that a poem is not to be read as a novel, to grab the storyline, the unrealizable to learn the end. Reading a volume of poetry requires a certain measure of lyrical essences: to read a few poems, then let the rhythms and rhymes influence you: then, back to reading, for you to access the meanings of metaphors and the emotional state of the creator.But, observe, reading and electronics can be modern, more practical, easier, but depriving you of that intimacy that is created between the reader and page, making it nearly impossible to read a poem back to your loved one, since, you can make a dedication to the lyrics in front of a computer.But let's return to the verses that we read, even in the modern option. I knew that Ionela Flood is an essayist and that she could write poetry. She has even recited, once, a few poems. Now, here, we have a volume which is mainly an expression of love . A late love? Certainly not: perpetually, at any age, we are capable of love. Its sensitivity towards others is different from the other poetesses today, revealing the surprise of metaphor. She understood that love "Me I have regained my self / my love”. In this reflection there is "the taste of happiness". It is destined to overcome even, merely "with my right eyelash”. The offering is a dose of discretion and sexual exuberance from The Country Girls, like in the debut volume of Maria Banus.Love, no matter how vulgar, sensuous, voluptuous described by other poets, differs with the pen of Ionela Flood. Consider, "you started to boil within me,": said with a certain tenderness. Also in this quatrain:

It's your house too small I collect on the thighs. It hurts on the eaves, And going back-n trance. (Nest)

Such love is a passion: and with poets, "is free", is destined to cure the wound infinity;victory is a delicacy and not sexual torment. The rationale is to "scream my longing " : the woman who feels "A princess for a kiss" even if "forgotten"; obsession is the "spiral", which means virility, but also spiritual twist. (Brancusi is referred to and also James Joyce´s spiral) Waiting, searching, retrieving means, "to consume the desire”.As with any poetess, she is not interested in the biological woman, but the outbreak of genuine thrill, beyond age and desire. Simply put, "we loved / we used to love / us two" for that "we kiss the same sky”. Love lights, clear, in search of purity, which is not always found.These are revelations, that the poet gives us, in a modern descriptive style , with refreshing expression; wavering between the purity of love and dedication. Undoubtedly, not all poems are equal in value - nor should they be - and even within the same poem you can not find a constructive balance. But overall, the structure itself is impressive: lyrical outburst, sincerity, honesty of feelings. There is an abundance of elegant lyrical expression.This volume must be read and to begin it compels you to find the meaning and to continue. A rhyme is a difficult statement and not an accidental form. .. The poet should dedicate herself, for her vocation, only to this form in the future.